Chapter Five #2
Then, I don’t have to face the reality that I let the best thing in my life go. I let my husband go.
I’ll never love again.
I swear to you, D’Artangnan, that I’ll never give my heart to anyone else. It was always you, and I’ll die taking that vow to my grave.
I miss you more than you’ll ever know.
I’m sorry.
I destroyed us being weak, and now, my punishment is having to do this alone. I’ll hold on for as long as I can in hopes that you’ll return one day.
You are, and forever will be, my better half.
I still love you.
G.’
When he read those words, his heart ached. He never thought that Graham even gave him a thought. That’s why he’d moved on.
Had he known…
Gently, he folded the letter, and placed it back in the order.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered.
The box shook.
Michael couldn’t do this.
It was breaking his already mangled heart into pieces. He’d been the asshole. Not once did he try to find Graham.
Not.
Once.
“I don’t want to read more,” he said. “I don’t want to know that I was the one who hurt him. For all of these years, I lived with the idea that he hurt me, but he stayed true. I didn’t. I moved on and proposed to someone else.”
The box slid closer.
One envelope shifted, standing above the others, and Michael picked it up.
It was dated six months ago.
And it was the latest note.
With shaking fingers, he opened it, and pulled the handwritten letter out.
“My dearest lost love,
It’s been a few years. Seven, to be exact. I’ve marked each one so that one day, when I’m gone, the attorney that I’ve hired to find you can get them to you.
I don’t know why I even should, since by now, you’re married and happy. I don’t believe that you just disappeared. I believe you’ve hidden yourself to avoid me, and I don’t blame you.
I hate myself so much.
I promised to never love anyone else, and I never have, but I’m trying to die. With each time I let some random man touch me, I pray it’s the end. I want them to kill me. My few friends tell me that I’m going to get hurt.
God.
I hope so.
With each one, I pray they end my miserable life, and that it’s painful. I don’t want to be here anymore. For some years, I had hope.
Now, I have none.
I’m completely empty.
By now, we’d be together a decade. We might have had a few children to call our own, and a cute little place by a pond where we could teach our children to swim and fish.
Ten years would have been a miracle.
Now, they are my sentence.
With each one, more heavy weight is put on me, so I’m barely staying afloat.
I’m dying.
And I pray it’s fast.
You’re not going to come back, and I’m never going to love anyone ever again. You took my heart with you when you left. Granted, I know you never thought twice about me, because who would?
I’m nothing.
I left the service of my country, a thing I was once so proud of, and now, I’m just playing caretaker to a drafty old castle wrought with ghosts.
It seems fitting.
I’ll die alone here, and maybe I’ll end up one of the angry spirits who haunt this place. That’s fitting since I am so angry with myself for not being brave.
I was a coward, and I’ve paid the price. Every day, I stare at the tattoo on my leg and think about you. It’s hours a day. Not just moments.
I lay in bed and I sob because I know what a treasure I had, and I lost. Sometimes, I sleep all day just feeding the animals here and going back to bed.
Why?
So I can remember you.
It’s fading.
I don’t remember your scent anymore. I don’t remember being hugged in your arms. I can’t remember your laugh, and I honestly hope I’m dead before it’s all gone. Those memories are all I have left, and they are being taken from me too.
When I forget all of you, I’ve lost all of me.
I no longer have the ability to have hope. It’s been drained out of me, and I wish to the loveless God that is torturing me that he would have let me take those bullets and died that day.
It would have been better.
I should have put my body over yours and died instead to protect my heart and soul.
And I failed anyway.
I know that you moved on and never gave me another thought. That’s clear, and that’s okay since this is my fault. I’ll carry it to my grave.
With each nameless man that calls me to fuck in some pub alley, I think about you.
This is my penance.
This is my punishment.
I don’t do it out of lust or love. I do it out of being too big of a coward to end my miserable life by my own hand.
I need someone to do it for me.
I hate myself so much that I know it’s only a matter of time before I end my life.
Some might say being a soldier is what broke me, but I know the truth.
Not being yours is what destroyed me.
I’d walk through battlefield after battlefield strewn with bodies and blood to have one last moment with you so I could tell you the truth.
I love you.
I’ll die loving you.
The day I placed that tattoo on my flesh, it was the day I married you. In my heart and soul, you were my chosen.
You were my everything.
That was my vow to you.
I’m sorry to dump all of this on you, but you likely won’t read these letters anyway. I only wrote them to look back at my selfishness and stupidity and to hurt more.
That’s the only thing I can feel anymore.
PAIN.
I have to hurt myself to know I’m alive. I’m so numb and lost. Nothing numbs the vast truth that I fucked up. God. I fucked up so badly that there was no way to fix it.
You walked out that door and became a ghost.
So one day, I’ll become one too.
I’m sure I’ll wander the heather-filled fields and still suffer. My soul will likely keep searching for its other half. Even in death, M'eudail, I want you to know that you were my whole world, and I lost seven precious years because of my mistake.
Are you married and happy?
Do you ever think about me?
Well, I hope you are married and happy. I hope you moved on and you never dwell on us.
That’s what I want for you. I love you so much that I pray each night as I’m on the cusp of death that you are at peace.
You deserve it. You deserve love, and I’m sorry I wasn’t man enough to protect you and give you what you needed.
I know you wanted to be protected, and I dropped the ball. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.
That’s on me.
I hope you have little wee ones running around your home, and kissing you. I hope you have a husband who looks at you with awe and love.
I pray you’re happy and safe.
That’s my final wish for you, D’Artangnan.
When you hear of my death, don’t mourn me. I deserved it. I deserved to die alone. For what I did to both of us, I’ll never forgive myself. If I wasn’t such a coward, I’d end it on my own. Until then, I’ll hope and pray the universe has mercy on me.
When I’m gone, look at the bottom of this box. I left something for you. Throw it out, if that’s what your heart tells you, or the man who has been taking care of you protests.
From ashes to ashes, and from dust to dust.
It’s all there is left to remember me.
I love you, D’Artangnan. You can doubt many things about how I behaved, and how I broke us, but I promise you that the one thing that is absolutely true was that I never loved anyone but you.
You were my only.
Forever.
Likely my final note.
Graham.’
As Michael held the note, the tears dripped down his cheeks, and the pain he felt in Graham’s words haunted him.
Never did he expect the man to pine away over him for seven years. Graham was gorgeous, and funny. He was smart and sassy.
That he’d come to this…
That he’d been willing to die alone than ever betray the oath he took to him when he put his initial on his leg…
That stole his breath.
To know that someone loved him that much…
Michael closed up the note and pulled the stack of letters from the box and stared inside.
At the bottom of the box, there were two smaller boxes. Taking out one, he flipped it open, and found it to be a treasure.
Inside, there was a medal.
The Victoria Cross.
Flipping it over in his hand, there was a piece of paper inside the box with it.
‘For bravery and exemplary service to Major Graham Lainey in battle for the honor of the cross and queen.’
Michael was surprised.
This was like being awarded the Medal of Honor. At some point, Graham had been given the Victoria Cross for a battle.
And a promotion.
It was clear that when Michael left, the man had thrown himself into being a soldier.
And suffered more than anyone likely knew.
Gently, he put it back in the box, and he was touched that he had planned to gift that to him. It was a treasure, and precious.
From one soldier to another, that spoke volumes.
In the second box, he popped it open, and his heart nearly stopped.
Oh, holy shit.
There were two rings inside of it.
Two very simple, gold bands.
Picking one up, he saw it was inscribed inside. Moving it between his fingers, he rolled it to see the words.
‘To my one and only on our wedding day. M'eudail, you are my only.’
Oh, Jesus.
He really had bought rings and was going to propose that night. Michael recalled that they’d made plans to have a romantic Italian dinner.
It was all coming back to him now.
Michael’s heart skipped in his chest. Graham didn’t think he was brave or worthy, but he’d held on for seven years and never once loved another.
That was the bravest thing he could ever do, and Michael knew it.
Because he’d done what he hadn’t.
He’d kept his vow and promise.
When he picked up the other band, he held it in his fingers, and it looked worn. Like someone had put it on and worn it for some time.
Inside the ring, he read the words, and as soon as he did, his chest hurt like someone had squeezed it, trying to crush it.
Michael couldn’t believe it.
‘I had love, but betrayed it. To my grave, I take this vow. I’m not worthy of my M'eudail.’
Holding the worn gold ring, everything in his life became far clearer.
He sat there, and Michael knew one thing.
There was no doubt in his mind that all of those years ago, while he was at home feeling pity and anger, he had no right.
Someone had loved him.
Someone had thought about him.
Someone had fought to find him.
Graham had nearly died loving him.
The sin of that day seven years ago was on him—not the man he’d made the bad guy.
It was on D’Artangnan Graves.
The biggest sinner of them all.